


Hate What You Do; Hate What You Don't

by Mortefere (aldamita)



Series: Mor Oneshots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Twinverse, mor4, mormor, severich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldamita/pseuds/Mortefere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian's POV on Richard</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate What You Do; Hate What You Don't

Sebastian hated Richard. Hated the way he smiled in the mornings over his first cup of tea. Hated the way he would hum as he read the morning paper. Hated the way he would curl up on the couch to watch telly or read one of the numerous books that littered the shared flat with a blanket over his feet and pillow tucked under his chin. Hated the light, pleasant lilt of his laughter as it drifted through the comfortable silence of the air to reach his ears. Most especially, he hated Richard when he was with Severin- and he was with Severin every chance he could get.  
  
The pair were joined at the hip day-in and day-out;  Severin’s arms around Richard’s waist, or Richard’s head resting on Severin’s shoulder. Fingers would  undoubtedly be intertwined, kisses would be inevitably exchanged, laughs would be shared effortlessly, and it made Sebastian want to scream. It was like peering into another world- a funhouse mirror where he and Jim were the distortion, the thing that wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t jealous, per se. He didn’t want Richard for his own, nor did he want for his own twin’s attentions, but this uncanny mirror-image the two produced was a maddening display of everything that just… wasn’t.  
  
Jim didn’t smile in the mornings. Jim didn’t hum anything that didn’t sound judgmental. Jim didn’t curl up around anything that wasn’t electronic and he certainly never laughed in any way that wasn’t derisive or cruel. And God forbid Sebastian ever approached him in a way that wasn’t sexual or professional or violent- it would only turn violent in the end anyway so he didn’t even bother anymore. Not that he wanted the same exact sappy display their mirror images  produced, but there were times when Richard and Severin would laugh together, whisper some little endearment like a secret just for them, and Sebastian would have to get up, grab his jacket from the hook by the door and leave without a word. He didn’t go anywhere, regardless of having grabbed his keys from the glass bowl on the table in the entryway, but, instead, walked a few streets down to stand in the alley and smoke.  
  
He’d grind out nearly half a packet of cigarettes with his heel before he would stalk back to the flat, pass whatever sickly sweet and touching scene might be playing out in the living room in favor of standing outside Jim’s office where the man would be undoubtedly seated at his desk, back rigid and neck crooked oddly as he poured every ounce of his interest over a screen of numbers and diagrams. Every minute he stood outside that room in that strangely cold hallway, Sebastian would hate Richard all the more. Hate the way he and Jim shared the same face but, where there was warm invitation in Richard’s eyes, Jim’s eyes only held the cold spurn of a dreary London night.


End file.
